The Science of Belief
by LapizLasuli
Summary: Temperance Brennan, Seeley Booth. Formulas for living, living for answers.


**Title:** The Science of Belief  
**Characters:** Temperance Brennan, Seeley Booth  
**Summary:** Formulas for living, living for answers  
**Rating:** PG  
**Disclaimer:** Bones? Not mine.  
**A/N:** I haven't seen any of series 3, so this could take place sometime towards the end of series 2. Apologies for any mathematical mistakes and gobbledygook.

* * *

"Actually, Mrs Grenville, according the latest statistical analyses of educational aptitude and results, your son-- " 

"Bones..."

" --falls into the bottom quarter of all percentages. He isn't as special as you think he is. Well, perhaps he is, but just not in the _way_-- "

"Are you tryin' to tell me my Bobby's-- "

"Excuse me, ma'am, we have to leave. We still have a lot of other people to see."

"Yeah, but she's sayin'-- "

"I'm really sorry, but we have to go _now_. And don't worry, ma'am - you know what they say about statistics! Always out-of-date and you can read anything you want into them - just depends on which way you hold the paper. Thank you for your time - we'll see ourselves out. _Dr. Brennan_..."

"Bones? That what he called you before? Yeah, well, you get your bony ass outta my house! You ain't even a real cop! An' leave my Bobby alone - y'all come here again, you better have a search warrant! An' you ain't talkin' to me again without my lawyer!"

---------------------

She finally broke the silence. "I suppose you think I was wrong."

"Not saying a word..."

"Wouldn't it be wrong to let her go on thinking her-- "

"People are entitled to their...beliefs, however stupid. Their expectations, no matter how unrealistic. Especially parents! You can't just go and rip-- "

"Even if those very things cloud their judgement? Blind them to the truth?"

He sighed in frustration. "He's her _son_, Bones! Parental love - hell, any love - will cloud judgement. Not every situation can be viewed rationally. Problems solved with facts and a cold, hard dose of reality. Life isn't black and white-- "

"Thank you for the homily, Booth," she interrupted, frostily. "I don't need a lecture on the human condition. And I'm more than aware of what parents are capable of doing."

"I know, I know! All I'm saying-- " he paused. "People are entitled to their dreams."

"And they _live_ in the real world." She sighed in equal frustration. "Booth, the _fact_ is Bobby Grenville is our main suspect."

"I know."

"In fact, our one and only - there's nobody else even in the picture."

"That's because he did it."

"So, how are we going to prove it? How do you prove what you _know_ to be true, but have no supporting evidence to do just that?" She let her head fall back against the seat. "I hate this."

He looked over at her, smiling wryly. "Damn, Bones, if you haven't just asked what every priest from every religion has probably asked themselves at some time."

"Don't start, Booth - this is nothing like that."

"Just saying."

"Those are all hypotheses-- " she broke off at his glare, her gaze returning to the window. "Just saying... And, unless we can prove it, our 'knowledge' about Bobby will remain conjecture. Maybe our problem's more mathematical," she mused. "We have the equation and the solution, we just don't have the formula to prove it."

"Yeah, whatever. We'll solve this one. I have faith in you. In us."

She nodded, settling back into the seat.

"And your ass isn't bony."

"And you're still not a real cop."

"She meant you!"

"Why? I never pretended to be a cop - and she was looking at you when she said it."

"Excuse me? _I've_ never pretended being one, either - why the hell would I? I'm better than a cop!"

"Really? I mean, different, yes, but better? After all, the FBI doesn't _compete_ with local law enforcement - you have different jurisdictions. And with better equipment and facilities - expertise - at your disposal, you have the definite advantage. So, you could say that, given what they have to do, with so much less-- "

"How are you still alive?"

"By not being dead?"

"Seriously, how is it that nobody's ever strangled you?"

"You mean any man?"

"Oh, I wasn't being specific about the gender! I'm sure several women-- "

"Sex."

"--would easily-- Wait, _sex?_ What does that-- "

"It's sex, not gender. Gender is a linguistic term - the classification of nouns. I think it was appropriated by some repressed pc brigade squeamish about using the word 'sex'. No doubt, while it was being used in a perfectly correct context."

"You know, Bones-- "

"Though, I suppose, it _could_ be the reason. Why I've never been strangled. Sex. I've been told I'm pretty good, so-- "

"Oh, god, somebody kill me, kill me now. My ears - they're bleeding, aren't they?"

She turned towards him, grinning. "Speaking of repressed..."

"Uh-uh! Just because _I_ believe in keeping a veil of...privacy over certain aspects of my life. And I've had no complaints, believe me!"

"And I'm to believe you'd tell me if you _had_?"

"Ah, sorry, need to know, Bones, need to know..." He glanced over and caught her tired smile. "Why don't you try and get some sleep? We've still got an hour or so to go."

She closed her eyes, and they drove for a while in silence.

"Booth?"

"Mmmm..."

"Sometimes, your faith just isn't enough. And neither is my science. We've never caught the grave digger."

"_Yet_. Haven't caught him, yet. One day at a time, Bones, one battle at a time. Today, that one is not ours. But it will be. And we'll be ready waiting."

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End file.
